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Like Explaining the Color of the Sky

I thought I was happy. I thought I had friends. I thought people liked me. I thought my life was going somewhere.

But, maybe it’s not.

I feel like I’m living a lie.

Anytime I think my life is going great, I take two steps backwards. The way my life is going right now I wouldn’t be surprised to find myself dying alone with nothing but books and twelve cats surrounding me. And I hate cats.

I have to set small goals for myself to accomplish to make the final one not hurt so bad when I don’t make it. And it feels like I’m not going to make it.

I can’t even attempt to dream up my future. All I see is darkness. It surrounds me. Suffocating me until no end is near.

I don’t do anything with my life. When I’m not working or doing endless amounts of schoolwork, I sit in my room in do nothing. I pretend to do something. I’ll have my laptop open or a book laid out, but really I’m just laying on my bed, staring at the ceiling.

Reading doesn’t even bring me joy. The one thing I could count on as an escape from the life I live isn’t there for me anymore.

And that just leaves me with my imagination, which isn’t the best thing. It only just gets my hopes up even more. I’ll create different scenarios in my head of an event I’m looking forward too, but instead of feeling anticipation for something that could possibly come, I just feel disappointment because I know that what I really want to happen just isn’t going to.

People come to me for problems sometimes and I can give them answers that really help them out when I can’t even answer the questions I ask myself; I believe in others when I can’t even believe in myself.

So, how does one become happy?

Like there’s that saying money can’t buy happiness, but what is happiness really?